


Thread

by Alania



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: 2016 Reylux Tropesgiving Exchange, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, F/F, F/M, Multi, Reylo - Freeform, Reylux - Freeform, Reyux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 18:56:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8726365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alania/pseuds/Alania
Summary: Hux battles amnesia.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ilsa13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilsa13/gifts).



> Written for the Reylux Tropesgiving Exchange: Prompt is Amnesia. (I know you love my in depth summary.)

If there is one thing he hates, it’s the smell of hospitals. The sting of cleaning products barely hiding the stench of death and disease. There was nothing more vile.

He knows this. He can remember _this_. He can’t remember why it’s important that he could remember his own personal preference on smell, but he clings to the thought as he wakes, refusing to let it slip away.

When he inhales his first waking breath, he just knows that’s what he’s smelling. A hospital. He’s in one of those dreary rooms with putrid colored walls and barely sanitized bedding. He waits for something else, a scent of something past the gloom of sanitation.

No flowers.

No gentle perfumes.

Before he even opens his eyes, he is already disappointed.

He settles that one thought - his hatred of the smell of hospitals - aside very carefully, and reaches for anything else to pull on. He knew he was a _he_ , at least, but as soon as he tries to recall his own name, or what he does (did?), he’s greeted with an imposing emptiness stirring uncomfortably in his head.

It hurts to think.

It hurts even more to fail.

I’m a lawyer, he thinks. No, there was no reason for him to assume such. He simply remembered what a lawyer was, and latches onto that for a brief moment. He can’t remember a thing about how to be a lawyer, but he does remember that he thought he might need one.

So he needs a lawyer. And he was in a hospital. That probably wasn’t a good thing.

He blinks his eyes open and lets them adjust to the dim lights of the room. It was a private room (thank God) with only his bed, and a strange, hollow attempt at homeliness. Television. Generic paintings. Desk. Computer. Chairs. It’s nicer than it should have been, but not nice enough. He still knows where he is. And he knows he’s not alone.

There’s another man there, sitting on a plush chair in the corner of the room, holding the edge of the window drapes aside as he watches whatever was going on just outside of the glass. The window itself is fully covered, so that only the man in the chair can see out of it.

It’s a monster of a man, he thinks. A brute that barely fits in the chair with legs too long to be sitting there, and a chest as broad as a wall. He’s sure that in a match between this man and a moving car, the car would have lost. He doesn’t like a creature that big sitting alone in his room, staring out of his windows. He shifts, daring it to pay attention.

He wants it to leave. Instead, it catches his gaze, and lets the window drapes fall from his fingertips.

“Morning.” The car wrecker mumbles, with sleep still scratchy in his own voice. It - He - stands from the chair and oh, oh he is tall, and big. He lurches as if he weighs a thousand pounds, thudding effort on every step.

But not scary. Just big, heavy, thick. Walls weren’t scary. Just impassible.

He shimmies up to a seated position on his hospital bed and meets the big man gaze to gaze, folding his arms stubbornly. “Is it?” He says with shocking emphasis on the ‘t’, startled to hear his own voice for the first time. It sounds sharp and intelligent. He instantly enjoys it. “I wouldn’t know. You’ve got my windows all covered up.”

A dry sense of humor. Good.

“What do you remember?”

This car crushing wall creature is too direct - that was the exact question he didn’t want to be provoked into so soon after waking. It’s impossible to control the sudden desire to search, to flip through what should be in his mind and pick out everything that made him who he was. A man, surely. But what else? 

Anything else?

Anything.

“I hate the smell of hospitals.” He says through clenched teeth. It sounds pathetic. He wonders if he’s ever said it before.

“I know.” The monstrous man replies. So he has. “This is the last day we’ll be here. Anything else?”

Anything. 

Panic rises quick as bile in his chest, gripping him without permission. He has to know something. Anything.

“Shh.” The man reaches out, and places his absurd paw on top of his own hand. He pulls it away when the strange man touches him, scalded by a foreign touch.

Contrition flashes in those big brown eyes. Oh, how pathetic.

“I can tell you some things. You usually remember the rest on your own.”

“Usually?”

Usually.

The monster skims past that mistaken reveal quickly, refusing to answer. Instead, he hands out breadcrumbs, memories that weren’t his to tell. 

“Your name is Hux.”

Hux.

Of course it is.

“Armitage Hux.”

Hux laughs, running his hands through his hair. It feels short. Clean. Well groomed. “If there was ever something to lie to me about, that would have been it.”

He thinks that was worth a laugh. The man edging closer does not seem to agree.

“Maybe next time.”

Next time. Next time. Next. Time.

“And yours?” Hux asks, his eyes flickering back and forth as his mind races with panic.

“I’m Ben.”

He gets Armitage, and this golem is blessed with something as simple and normal as _Ben_. What a cruel, unfair world.

“Are you my brother, Ben?”

Pain. He catches it flashing through Ben’s expression and the panic stops. He realizes it instantly - Ben is not related to him by blood.

He learns another thing to file away about himself. He’s gay.

“Ah.”

Immediately, a self-assessment begins. He looks down at his own body and searches for markers, evidence of individuality in every form. His clothing consists of hospital issued pajama scrubs so he ignores it, pulling away the covers to see the thinness of his legs, the whiteness of his skin, the freckles marring his arms and golden hairs sprouting from them. He looks up to ask the man for a mirror, but he’s already gone.

Panic trembles him all over.

Ben is back in seconds, exiting a doorway that could only lead to a bathroom by Hux’s estimation. In his hands is a small, round mirror.

_Next time. Usually. Next time._

He snatches the mirror out of Ben’s hands with more hostility than he’d meant to, and pulls it up to get a look. He’s a light colored red-headed, the type of man the word ginger most implies, and he’s got no stubble to speak of. He runs his hands across his cheek and feels the light, barely there pluck of freshly cut hairs.

He’s shaved recently.

He stares stubbornly at the face of the stranger in the mirror, willing himself to view it as a long lost friend instead.

“Tell me everything.” He demands of the man, looking up at the face of true exhaustion. He’s had to do this before. Hux can tell. “Or,” He hedges. “Just the basics.”

“You were shot.” Kylo says. He looks relieved to be able to paraphrase. “Drive-by. You lost a lot of blood before anyone could help you. They had to resuscitate you three times before it took.”

Hux moves the mirror around his body, looking for a gunshot wound.

“There was a lot of brain damage.”

He can’t find a single bandage. There’s no pain to follow up on. He seems fine.

“The doctors say there’s a really good chance none of it’s permanent.”

“None of it?”

Ben is looking firmly at the wall behind him. “There’s a couple of different ones. I didn’t want to listen when they tried to explain it. Different kinds of amnesia and they’re all messing with you right now but you’ve already got most of your long-term memories back.”

“I most certainly do not.”

Ben looks at him like he’s haunted. Like he’s tired. He’s had this argument before. “It takes you a few hours to remember all of it. Then you’re fine for the day.”

_For the day._

_Usually._

_Next time._

He feels it. It feels like unraveling, and it’s both a relief, and an annoyance. He can feel the edges of something itching at his brain, and he reaches inward to pull on the ragged little thread of information.

“Anterograde amnesia.” Hux blurts out, hearing the words as if they were coming from someone else. He knows what that word means. He knows the condition.

How does he know the condition?

Ben laughs - and what a sound, vibrating through Hux’s body with its strength - and shakes his head. “Great, you’re the one with the damn thing and even you remember the fancy word better than I do. Way to make me look dumb as usual, Hux.”

He doesn’t sound upset. It’s possible he doesn’t mind Hux showing him up.

“This is very rare, both at once. Isn’t it?” Hux feels it tumbling out. He pulls and pulls, until the line goes slack. He hears the words in voices that aren’t his. This isn’t his information. Someone told him this, once.

Ben nods.

“How long have I been here?”

Ben runs his hand through his hair. He doesn’t answer.

The silence fills Hux with a tight rage. He didn’t know he could get this mad. He puts that aside in his little growing pile of unraveled thread.

“How _long_.” He hisses out through clenched teeth. His jaw hurts. This is a common habit of his.

“Here, two weeks. Town View, two weeks before that. Then a month comatose in County Hospital.”

He does the math. Two months - one of which was spent awake. A month of anterograde amnesia. A month of waking up and forgetting everything he’d managed to remember the day before, because the day before had never happened.

A month of this man, watching over him, repeating the same things over and over again.

“Is it always you?” The rage was gone. Hux spoke quieter, now. “Doing this, over and over? Every day?”

Ben smiles. It’s not the smile of someone who’s given up his entire life to this. “Not always. Usually it’s Rey. She quit her job to take care of you, help with treatment, therapy, she’s - stronger than - “

“Rey?” He hates that another wrench has been thrown into the equation, but the name feels more familiar than Ben’s ever did. He feels it itching again, in the back of his mind. He pulls, but the thread frays. Breaks.

He knows the name.

“Who is she?” He asks, but in his eyes he asks another question. _Why her, and not you?_

Ben whistles low under his breath, and reaches down to take Hux’s hand again. He doesn’t pull away this time, but he feels like he wants to. “You should ask her that. She’ll be here, soon. You have two hours of therapy with her. You remember everything, by the end of it.”

“Ben.” Hux’s hand tightens. It’s angry. “Who. Is. Rey.”

The thread frays. He pulls. It frays again.

“Are you my - “ It feels so juvenile to say the word boyfriend out loud. Hux shakes his head. “Aren’t _you_ my lover? I assumed such.”

Ben had already tried to pull away, but the word lover has him freezing in place, flushing with color. He snorts - like the topic was embarrassing to even talk about - but nods. “Husband, but yeah.”

Husband. He starts to remember his life with Ben, and almost sighs with relief. These memories were easier to unravel. Simpler. They’ve been married for two years. Lover was the better term for it, Hux realizes - as vivid memories of their sex life come tumbling out like falling photographs.

Ben is his husband. He knows this. His hand grips tighter, pulls the towering giant back until he’s face to face. Now the absurdness of his size is pleasing, not ridiculous. There’s muscle under all those clothes, muscles that Hux’s fingers have travelled and mapped. He can hear Ben’s gravelly voice whimper and beg.

He meets eyes with the man, and Ben’s flush looks like it has a taste to it. Hux wants to remember that, too.

“Yeah.” Ben breathes out, fully aware that this is Hux’s reaction to remembering their marriage. “Hi.”

“I remember you.” Hux tells him, just so the man can give in and stop walking on eggshells around him. Ben tried to back away, but he’s got a firm grip on his clothes and the larger man struggles. Hux is more powerful than his thin body suggested, and he’s proud of that fact. He files that away for later.

“Hux.” Ben warns, smiling helplessly down at him. He’s playing coy, but Hux can tell he’s pleased that he remembers this. Correction; the tent of Ben’s too-tight jeans reveal that he’s more than just pleased about this. “Rey will be here any minute.”

“I don’t rightly care about Rey.” Hux mutters, anger replacing his flush of desire almost too quickly. Something stirs, blowing the threads he’d begun to ignore for gratification in his mind. He stills, a breath away from Ben’s lips, and pulls.

It’s a lie. He does care if Rey walks in on this. He does care.

Slowly, he lets go of his husband and crawls off of his bed, his bare feet making no noise on the carpet.

Hospital rooms weren’t normally carpeted. It was too hard to clean out vomit, and feces, and blood.

His toes bent to catch on the carpet. It was plush. Gentle, and thick. Like Ben.

“Where am I?” Hux whispers, with his back still facing Ben and his eyes on the carpet. He hears the shift of movement behind him, and a hand pressing like a question against his back. 

Ben is wondering if he’s already forgotten. He turns, and takes the hand in both of his, pressing it against his chest. “Ben, what is this place?”

Ben’s lips part to answer, but shut the moment he hears a door creak. He pulls his hand away from Hux and both those large palms are on his waist suddenly, grabbing him and lifting him up to set him back down on his bed. With a surge of movement he finds himself being hugged, fierce and protectively. He always was the more emotional of the two of them.

Hux kisses the cradle of his ear, and Ben pulls away to catch his lips in a fleeting kiss.

“I’ll be back by 6.” Ben promises, which sounds as familiar to Hux as he’s sure it’s meant to. “Be good for her until then.”

“Good?” Hux scoffs, laying back on the bed. Telling him to be good for anyone sounds like a challenge. He loves challenges. He remembers that.

He supposes Rey is a challenge, then. He accepts it.

* * *

They’ve been whispering just outside of his earshot for at least five minutes, agitating him with every second that passes. Hux is almost livid by the time Rey enters the room, alone. He’s already remembered his temper - and he guesses this is why Ben asked him to be good to her, because she must have already gotten a taste of his sharp tongue beforehand.

Then she enters, and his mind blanks. It isn’t as frightening as it should be, because he can recognize that he hasn’t lost any of the new memories he’d already acquired, he just can’t think of anything but one irrational, heart pounding thought.

He says it out loud, because he can’t remember what shame is.

“God, but you’re stunning.”

He expects this is going to make her blush, or shy away from him. Instead she smiles and crawls with unexpected familiarity onto the foot of his bed, sitting there cross-legged with several books in her hand.

“Every time.” She chuckles out, and her voice burrows its way painfully into his soul.

“Every time?” He asks, half because he’s embarrassed and half because he just wants to hear her say it again.

She gives him exactly what he wants. “Every time.”

And suddenly, it’s not enough.

Why would Ben have worried that he wasn’t going to be good to her? He wanted to be everything to her. He wanted to give her the stars.

Not gay, his mind amended. Bi, then.

She sets all the books out in front of them, splaying them on the bed. Some are thin but ornate, with dates and topics inscribed on their cover. Photo albums, mostly. 

There’s a thick, coverless book too, but he ignores that for now.

At the center, there’s a silver photo album labeled ‘Our Wedding’. For a moment, his heart thuds painfully. He places his hand on top of it, and refuses to open it; his mind’s already started imagining the couple within to be himself and Rey.

But it’s not. And he knows that. There’s no need to imagine, when he knows exactly what’s in this book, from cover to cover. He remembers it, and somehow that does nothing to squash his imagination.

“I’m married.” He tells her. A statement. A warning. 

Her face brightens as she misinterprets his tone, or chooses to ignore it. She seems so happy to hear that he remembers this on his own. She’s probably relieved, too. He watches her for signs of it.

What might he have done on the days when he hadn’t remembered?

“That’s right, to Ben. Would you like to start with that one, then?”

His hand slides off of the book, and she picks it up, flipping it open. The first page is nothing but lines of congratulations, written by people who’d attended. She turns the book around to let him read them all, but he hasn’t stopped looking at her.

“Do you remember any of these names?”

He’s still not looking.

Why was she the one doing this with him? Hux can almost - faintly - remember telling her he wants her. He needs her. He remembers his hands grabbing for wrists and cheeks and waists far too small to be Ben’s, and his brow furrows with suspicion. She shouldn’t be the one in charge of his therapy. It didn’t need to be Ben, but surely a stranger that didn’t elicit this unhealthy desire in him would have been better. There had to have been a time when she’d considered a substitute.

Unless.

Unless she _likes_ being illicit with him.

He sits back, hardening with suspicion. There was something missing; he supposed there would always be something missing at a time like this; but the woman in front of him was not scared of him, or worried about his advances. 

He thinks she very much should be.

He lurches. Her hands are on his chest to stop him, as if she expects it, but her expression is a blank.

“Stop it.”

She’s pushing, firm, forcing him back to sit down again. Her finger taps the book, drawing his attention. “Read the list. Do you remember any names?”

She’s ignoring what he’s done. Not angry. Not nearly interested. Just _blank._

“Who _are_ you?” He asks. She’s giving him nothing. He has to know.

Her finger slides down the list, four rows in, to a line of messy penmanship.

_I couldn’t be happier than I am for you two. Best wishes in your life together! You both deserve the very best!  
Love always, Rey_

Rey was at their wedding. This has his attention more than the book ever did, and he grabs it, flicking through pictures. They stir memories that have nothing to do with her, filling his mind with wafting threads that he grabs at and tugs until the tapestry is unraveling at his feet. He sees his entire life there, in tatters, but he knows he’s still missing something.

His hand trails across the picture of Ben kissing him, and then picks up those same fingers and presses them on his lips.

He can still feel that kiss.

Behind Ben’s black tuxedo, right on the edge of the picture, there’s a curl of beige fabric. His hand returns to the picture because he can’t see her yet but he knows.

It’s Rey, behind him. Rey, at their wedding. Rey - Rey, Ben’s best man. Woman. It didn’t matter. She’s been his best friend since childhood and she’s everything to him. Everything to Ben. Rey, his first crush. Rey, who’d been there for his first breakup. He loved her. Ben loves her.

But not the way he loves Hux.

Hux flicked faster through the pages now, searching for one with a better view of Rey in it. He found that more difficult, always cut off at the edges or hiding behind Ben’s giant form. It was only at the end, with the group shot of everyone in the party, that Hux saw her standing beside Ben. He had one arm around the girl, pulling her until she was plastered against his body, laughing. Hux looks at himself in the picture, standing rigid and formal, as if posing for a painting.

He remembers that exact moment. He can hear the sound of her laughter. He’d wanted to look. He’d wanted to turn and look, so bad-

He shuts the book closed and pushes it away, disgusted with himself. He knows who Rey is, now. Why Rey would be here to help him through this, when Ben could not. He understands her, now.

It’s so much worse than he’d imagined it could be.

“Get out.”

Rey’s expression is no longer blank. There’s a smile, a sappy, sympathetic thing. She sees him now, she knows.

“Hi, Hux.”

“What are your intentions, here?” He has to know. He doesn’t want to know. He has to ask. “I'm surprised. I would have thought you'd take advantage of me forgetting who you are. Easier to walk away, isn't it?”

She should look scandalized. She deserves to be apologetic. She just pushes the books away and crawls closer, sitting down on her knees in front of him. The only thing he can glean from her expression is confusion. He doesn’t believe she has any right to be confused.

“I didn't walk away, Hux. You did.” She looks surprised. They’ve never had this conversation before. His heart is inappropriately thrilled by the new territory. She’s just as lost as he is. They’re on even ground, now.

“Ben warned me not to get attached.” Hux huffs out. His eyes roll and close. “But when do I ever listen to that man.”

Breathe in. Breathe out. Try not to think about her, he tells himself. Try not to focus on this inevitable betrayal of his body and mind. His attempts are in vain; they’re not listening to him anymore. Every memory he doesn’t want is now laying in front of him, refusing to be ignored. She’s there, gloriously naked between the two of them, begging for anything, everything. She’s in the air, Ben’s holding her high as he swings her until she’s dizzy and drops her down into Hux’s waiting arms. She’s laughing, until she’s moaning, and then she’s leaving and they don’t dare ask her to stay.

He can’t _stop_ thinking about it. About how good it was. How good it felt.

Her lips tasted like honey. Her body melted against him. But he wanted more, so much more.

She slaps his face so hard it startles him out of his stupor, and he turns to stare up at her red, tear streaked face. He hadn’t even heard her close in on him, but now she’s inches away, crying silently as he nurses a palm-reddened cheek. 

“You told me it was just sex, for you. You said that right to my face. Remember _that_? That’s the last thing you said to me before you left.”

Her description of the memory pulls it out of him, that final moment falling light as a feather across his mind’s eye. She’s telling the truth. He’d been the one to end what was supposed to be a simple affair.

Rey was in their lives so frequently, near the end. That sweet, charming, caring girl that felt so comfortable nestled between them when they watched movies, or falling asleep against their intertwined arms. She’d always felt like home, to him, but he’d never told her as much. And when the hugs lingered, and they couldn’t stop touching her, she’d been so willing. So happy. So free.

Rey’s spirit was pure freedom, Ben warned. This was why they’d never formally dated. Relationships were not in her vocabulary, she’d told Ben, long ago. And he’d warned Hux. He had.

But it was too late for him. He’d been in love with her since before their relationship had ever grown into something more. He wagered he’d already been in love with her at his own wedding, when her laugh pulled at his heartstrings and he refused to look her way.

He remembers hardening himself the night he’d said his goodbyes to her. Cold. Cruel. He was so good at cruel. He stood rigid, and never once looked her way. Just like the man in that wedding picture.

He plays the villain so well.

He remembers, now, but there’s nothing left to hurt. His heart feels empty, as though regaining that last memory had somehow drained him of emotion. He doesn’t mind looking her in the eye, now. He’s tired of playing his role.

Ben’s warning was ringing too loud in his head, that last day. 

That voice is silent, now.

“Well.” Hux breathes out, rubbing his cheek until it hurts even more. “I lied.”

It feels good, for once. Telling the truth never felt good before, but now. Now it feels like freedom.

He’s sure this will keep her from coming, now. After all, the only reason he’d ever held back the truth was to keep from scaring her off. Now, he uses it to his advantage. 

Tomorrow, he will wake up and forget all of this. She won’t come, now that she knows how he feels. Now that she knows he’s wanted more from her than she was ever supposed to give. All the reasons he’d been scared of seem so silly, now. He’ll never see Rey again. And that will be easier. Easier for all of them. 

He doesn’t expect the hard push against his shoulders, pinning him down onto the bed. He doesn’t expect the light pressure of her lithe body climbing up on top of his, sitting flush against him in ways she really shouldn’t. He doesn’t expect the way his body reacts, lurching upward to cradle her in his arms, pulling her against every inch of him until the pressure starts to hurt.

His mind blanks, and thinks of nothing but getting himself inside of her.

It was just sex, he’d said. Just sex for him. That’s how he feels, in this moment. It could be just sex, if that’s what she wants. If it means he can have her one more time, it can just be about sex. He’ll forget, tomorrow. He can allow himself this.

Her hands slide into his hair, and no, no he can’t.

“Stop.” He begs, reaching up to pull her hands away from him. “Rey, please. God, you can’t know how terribly I want you. But I can’t. I can’t just - it can’t just be this, Rey. I am begging you.”

She’s pure fury in his arms. He meets her eyes, and knows with all certainty he’s never seen her this mad. It’s jarring. It’s beautiful.

His heart is filling again, with that old, familiar pain.

“It’s never just been this for me.” 

They’re his words, his thoughts, but they’re in her voice, so they make no sense to him. 

“Who gave you the right to assume that?” She’s still talking. It’s so hard to hear. “All this time wasted, and all you would have had to do was ask me. Just - just fucking ask me. Hux. Ask me. Right now.”

He knows what she wants him to ask, but there’s too much room for fear in his heart again, and nothing left in his mind to unravel. It has to be this, he tells himself. He can’t be wrong.

“ASK ME.” She screams, stealing his breath with the force of her rage.

“Do you.” He almost says it, catches himself, and her teeth clench and snap in his face. He amends his wording. He must be careful.

“Could you ever learn to love me?”

The rage bleeds away. She looks exhausted. He wants to wrap her up in his arms and tell her to forget he’d ever asked.

“No.” She whispers, crushing him in one blow before building him back up in the next. “Because I already do.”

Ben’s warning enrages him, now, but even that can’t hold a candle to how those words make him feel. He’d spent so long convincing himself that she would never love him the way she loved Ben, or the way he loved her. That she would never want them the way they wanted her. That she would always remain just out of his reach, until the jealousy consumed him from within and destroyed his marriage and their friendship. 

But a voice that sounds more like his own than Ben still warns him, in the back of his mind, that jealousy is still waiting there, would always be waiting there, ready to strike.

He ignores it.

It tightens itself in the back of his mind, tangling up other memories in a messy ball of thread.

“He told me you wouldn’t want this.” Hux whispers. He doesn’t recognize his own voice. He can’t remember what it used to sound like before this moment. “It’s not your style.”

“It’s not,” She admits with a laugh. “It never has been.”

He feels all of the tangles tug and pull. He ignores it.

Her head is resting on his shoulder, now. He can feel how contemplative she’s gotten. She’s still working herself out, too.

“I didn’t think I’d ever fall in love.” She mutters, pressing her face to his arm. “But when it was both of you? When you let me in and made me feel like I was safe and loved and welcome, there was nothing else I wanted in the world but to stay. Every time.”

His lips quirk in a sharp smile. “Every time?”

He can feel her lips move against his skin. She’s smiling.

“Every time.”

The pain is gone. He can feel everything click slowly into place, flooding him with relief and comfort. It’s brief. Because it can’t last forever.

“What will you remind me of tomorrow?” He asks her, as a gentle reminder that their newfound discovery would not last. 

She turns rigid in his arms.

He counts each long second that passes in silence. She takes her time before she moves, lifting herself up to meet his lips. It feels easy to lose himself in her soft kiss, but he refrains. He forces himself to focus. He has to remember this.

He has to remember today.

“I love you.” She whispers against his lips, as an answer and as a promise.

He has to remember today.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue.

If there is one thing he hates, it’s the smell of hospitals. He knows this. He can remember _this_. He inhales his first waking breath, and something in him expects to smell the sting of cleaning products, but instead he smells vanilla and chai, and the fluttery scent of fresh air and budding roses coming from an open window. He smells clean sheets laundered in his particular brand of lightly perfumed detergent, and the faint hint of bad breath being blown against his face every six seconds. He hates it, instantly, and he loves it just as quickly.

Because it's not the smell of hospitals, anymore.

It smells like home.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt Fill: Amnesia
> 
>  
> 
> For this fic I tried something new, I wanted to branch out of my normal writing style and see if I could do something with more tension, more blunt impact. It helps that this exchange had a word limit, you had to get a story out in a shorter frame than we're used to, and that inspired me to try something I'm not comfortable with, which was fun.
> 
> Anyway there are a lot of questions left unanswered, a lot of tiny little plot devices left in that won't see resolution, and that was kind of the point of the fic. The reader's meant to be left with a sense of unfinished unfulfillment in order to relate most with Hux since that's basically going to be his whole life now. Most importantly, the question of who he's in bed with / whether he remembers anything is the one I wanted to leave open ended the most. If not knowing the answers unsettles you at the end of your read-through, then I've accomplished the goal of this writing experiment.
> 
> However, I am super duper open to answering questions about this fic over at [my tumblr](http://every-day-is-star-wars-day.tumblr.com/) if your curiosity wins out, because there ARE actual right answers to everything, and a ton of plot behind this fic that is not expressed in these words. Send me asks if you're curious, and if not, that's okay too!
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you enjoy ALL the fics of our Reylux Tropesgiving Exchange!! I can't wait to DIG IN MYSELF!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!


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